


Drawn into Fire

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, F/M, Post-Movie, Teacher-Student Relationship, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7054294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Apocalypse and Charles is trying to get his power back under control. Jean helps him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawn into Fire

For the first time in a long time, everything was too loud.

Charles lay on the bed and tried to shield himself. Tried to block out the residual fear and anxiety that everyone in the near vicinity still felt after what had happened. Tried to block the sudden bursts of grief from Scott about his brother, the more quiet unhappy acceptance from Hank about his friend and the constant, dragging hum of agony from Erik’s almost unbearable misery. Charles wanted to help them, _would_ help them but had to accept that right now, he wasn’t in a state to help anybody. Apocalypse’s powers were gone from his mind but they had left it in disarray and Charles knew he was going to have to try and put himself back together before he could do the things that he wanted to do for his friends.

It was just harder than it had been for a very long time. Again and again he pushed at his shields, tried to build them up and again and again, they were broken by waves of fear and sorrow that were almost unbearably _loud_.

Fire suddenly flickered gently in his mind and he felt Jean’s presence close by.

_Professor? You need me, don’t you?_

He felt ashamed. He shouldn’t need Jean’s strength, he should be fine. He was the teacher, she was the pupil and he should –

_You said everybody needs help sometimes, remember?_

As she spoke, he suddenly saw a memory of him talking to Jean, reassuring her. He was holding her hand, leaning close and his voice was kind. Yes, he had told Jean that, hadn’t he? Early on, when she’d first arrived at the school and been frightened of her own power. He could hear his own voice saying that she should never worry about asking for help because people would always be there to provide it, that she was not and never would be alone again.

_We can always learn more, can’t we?_ he said ruefully. _Yes, Jean. Please help me._

She came into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. She looked young and faintly swamped in the too-big clothes that had been the only thing Moira’s people had been able to find for her. But her mind was warm steel and she sat next to Charles confidently on the bed as he so often had for her and when she took his hand in hers, that was warm too.

_It’s all right, Professor. Everything’s fine. We’re safe. We’re all safe_.

He focused on her voice, on her presence in his mind. He could still feel his body but it began to seem distant as they created a mental world together. It looked like Charles’s study – his _old_ study, he corrected himself, he’d seen what had happened to his beautiful school in their minds, it would take more than a lick of paint to put _that_ right. Charles stood in it and looked down at himself standing, felt the hair on his head that he already knew would never grow naturally again. He had changed and he would have to adapt his personal view of himself too.

Jean quietly put her arms around him, leaned her head on his shoulder. She looked almost the same as she did in the “real” world but seemed somehow larger; her presence strong, solid, comforting. There was no disappointment in her mind, no embarrassment at seeing her Professor wounded and tired and afraid. Just acceptance and a desire to help, to reassure him the way he had so often reassured her. Charles held her close, put his head against her beautiful hair. Jean’s power mingled with his, gently flickering to his broken shields, bolstering them, healing them. She was so warm …

“You are so gifted,” he murmured out-loud. “And I am so very, very proud of you.”

He felt her response; her pride, her amazement, the remnants of old fears that were not so easily chased away. Charles didn’t blame her. He knew from his own experience just how hard it could sometimes be to accept your powers. Even when you thought you had …

His newly raised shields trembled and Jean’s power swirled again, strengthening him, warming him, protecting him.

“It’s all right, Professor. We’re safe. We’re all safe.”

Her warmth was all-encompassing. Charles could feel himself getting lost in it, realised vaguely that he ought to pull back. It was one thing to connect in battle, one thing to take strength when required but quite, quite another to drift so deep, so uncontrolled. Jean was strong but she was only seventeen and there were things that she shouldn’t see …

And yet it was tempting. Tempting to just relax, to go with the flow. He could feel Jean’s arms around him in their mental world, feel her hand curled gently around his in the real world. It was a good feeling. He wanted more of her touch. Of both of her touches.

“Jean … ” he said but he didn’t need to say more. Her mind swirled within his; reading his doubts, his uncertainties, the flickers of temptation and what they meant. He felt her response almost instantly, reassurance and fascination and a temptation of her own that she had always tried to hide from him before. 

_No, Jean, we mustn’t._

_Why?_

Such a good question. So many good answers that were lost as her power curled with his, leading him deeper. Here, they were alone, completely alone with no other voices disturbing them. It was warm and safe and beautiful, a place that nobody who wasn’t a telepath could truly appreciate. Charles didn’t fight it. He let it wrap around him, let is sink into him, looked into Jean and felt her look back into him. Knew she could see everything and that he could see all of her and yet it wasn’t horrifying. It was wonderful.

_I love you_.

It was more than words, it was pure feeling.. He wasn’t even sure which of them was feeling it, there was no separation of feelings any longer, just existence and it was beautiful.

It could not last. Eventually, Charles knew that they would have to separate, return to the physical world. He would have to remember that Jean was seventeen and he was fifty-one and that anything between them would have to reflect that. He would have to remember that it was wrong.

But that was the future. This was the present. And here, Charles felt _safe_.


End file.
